Temper
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: Dean's text message sent Sam racing back to Amelia. What happens when he gets there, no one could have seen coming. LIMP!SAM
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

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**Chapter One**

Sam gestured to the bartender for another drink. He wanted to be as inebriated as possible. He thought it was the only thing that could help him come to terms with what he had just seen. He wasn't surprised to see Amelia with Don, he knew when he left her that her life would follow that path, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

It was physically painful for him to get that glimpse of domestic bliss. That used to be him sharing a beer with her, now it was Don. He told himself that it was the best thing, she should be with her husband, but it didn't ease the ache in his chest.

He pulled out his phone and read the text he thought Amelia had sent. There were no words to explain the panic he had felt when he'd seen that message. Anger towards Dean surged in him. He called the number and waited as it rang.

"Sammy?"

"'Sam, I need your help. Come quick.' Nice one," Sam said bitterly. "Swapping Amelia's phone out with a burner, sending a distress signal... You got me good. When did you do that?"

"While back, in case I needed it. Looks like I made the right call." There was no hint of remorse in Dean's voice. "So, did you see her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I saw her. And she's doing just fine." He had seen her and it had hurt him. Damn Dean for doing that to him. "But, of course, you know that."

"Actually, I didn't. I did know it was the only way to get you to lay off."

Sam sighed. Dean didn't care about what he had put Sam through. He only cared that his precious Benny was safe.

"So? Is it done?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "It's done."

"Any casualties?"

"Martin."

Martin was dead! Martin who was only in on this hunt because Sam had dragged him in. Sam felt like he had been sucker punched.

"Was it Benny?"

"He had it coming, Sam. I'll tell you what happened."

"I _know_ what happened, Dean."

"Okay, you want to listen to me or not?"

Sam decided he didn't want to listen. He didn't want to hear how Martin had been killed, knowing it was his fault. Martin hadn't been a part of this until Sam had dragged him in. He had known Martin wasn't the full ticket, but he had assuaged his doubts by telling himself Benny needed to be watched. Now Martin was dead, and it was all Sam's fault. Another death to lay at his feet.

He hung up the phone, shoved it back in his pocket, and then he dropped a bill down on the bar to cover his tab. Turning to leave the bar, he stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of her, Amelia.

She was as lovely as ever, and it made Sam's heart contract painfully. He was not surprised to find himself trembling as she approached.

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, and Sam felt all the emotions he had forced away the night he had left her coming rushing to the fore: love, need, lust and overwhelming sadness for her loss. She was the first woman he had truly loved since Jess, and she owned his heart still.

"I knew that was you," she said simply.

"I…" Words failed Sam as he looked at her.

"I have to go," she said, turning on her heel.

He reached out and caught her arm. "Don't go, please." There was clear desperation in his voice. He didn't want her to go, not now she was so close. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and cling to her. He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her and how hard it had been to be without her all these months. He wanted to tell her about Dean, how he had miraculously returned, and how things were so wrong between them now. He wanted to do all that and more, but he couldn't.

"Let me go, Sam," she said, tugging away from him.

Sam released her as if he had been burned.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I have to go," she said again. She turned away from him and made her way through the jostling crowd. Sam watched her go, and he was frozen in place. She didn't want him to follow, that much was clear, but he had to. It was as if there was an invisible cord dragging him after her. He swept through the crowd, being buffeted by the moving bodies.

He reached the door and stepped out into the balmy evening air. What he saw there stopped him in his tracks for a split second.

Amelia was pressed against the wall and a man was leaning over her.

"Hey!" Sam said harshly. "Get away from her!"

The man turned, and Sam's heart sank. "Don?"

Don sneered at Sam. "Yeah, it's me. Sorry to interrupt your little lovers' meeting, but I was wondering what had kept my wife. You see, she told me she was running to the store. Now I see the truth, she was running to you."

Amelia whimpered. "I told you, it's not like that. We barely even spoke."

"Yeah, I bet you were too busy making up for lost time to talk," Don said. "It's been a while, right, Sam?"

"It's not what you think," Sam said. His instincts were all on alert. Don looked positively dangerous. Sam wasn't afraid for himself, but he was scared for Amelia. By coming here, he had torn apart her world.

"Here's what I think," Don said. "I think you two lovebirds have been playing me since I got back. You"—he glared at Amelia—"told me it was over. That you chose me. When all the time you were carrying on with him!"

"I haven't," Amelia said. "This is the first time I have seen Sam in months. I thought I saw him earlier, and I had to make sure it was him. That's all."

Don shook his head jerkily and moved over her once again. "Don't lie to me! I know what you have been doing. Playing me for a fool."

"Get away from her!" Sam barked, moving forward.

Don turned from Amelia and advanced on Sam. "Who are you to tell me what to do? She's my wife, dammit, not yours."

Sam sighed. "I don't want to fight you. I'm not here for trouble."

"Too bad, as trouble is exactly what you are getting. You think you can just mess around with my wife and get away with it? I don't think so." Don raised his fists.

Sam was not afraid of the man. He knew Don was outmatched if it came to a fight; Sam was bigger and stronger, but he didn't want to fight. He had already damaged Amelia's life enough by his presence. He had to make Don see that it had been innocent.

"I'm not going to fight you, Don," he said calmly.

"Why not? Too much of a coward?" Don asked.

"I'm not fighting you because there is nothing to fight over. I am here because I thought Amelia was in danger. It was a misunderstanding. Now I know she's okay, I can go."

"You're not going anywhere!" Don reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

Sam gulped. This confrontation had just got a lot more deadly. "Amelia, run!" he commanded.

Don grabbed her arm before she had a chance to obey. "No, Amelia, stay. It's lover boy that should be running. He's the one going to end up with a bullet in the brain."

Sam raised his hands in front of him. "You don't want to do this, Don," he said in a tone of forced calm.

"Now, see, that's where you are wrong. This is exactly what I want to do. I want to end this thing you and her have going on once and for all."

Sam was torn; he could tackle Don and wrestle the gun out of his hands, but Amelia would be at risk in the scuffle.

"Don, please." Amelia had tears streaming down her face.

Don rounded on her and the gun pointed at her stomach. Sam's choice was made for him now. He had to attack. He couldn't let Amelia get hurt.

He lunged forward and tackled Don, forcing the gun's aim away from Amelia. They grappled for the gun, and then there was a harsh crack.

Amelia screamed and flinched against the wall.

Sam lurched back from Don, searching him for a sign of injury. There was none. For a moment, he was bewildered, and then the pain reached him. He put a hand to his stomach, and when he pulled it away, his palm was bloody.

"Sam!" Amelia rushed forwards as Sam's knees gave way. He clung to her and she eased him down to the floor. "Oh, God, Sam."

Sam felt like there was a burning poker pressed into his stomach. His head flopped back against the sidewalk, and his hands gripped his bloody stomach in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He knew from the slickness beneath his fingers that it was bad; he was losing a lot of blood.

Amelia knelt beside Sam. She was overcome with panic, but her medical training came to the fore. She knew she had to control Sam's bleeding. She balled up her jacket and held it to the wound, easing Sam's hands away with whispered words of comfort.

"Shhh, it's okay," she soothed. "I've got you."

Sam's eyes roved madly in their sockets, coming to rest on her. She was beautiful, even in her panic. Sam fixed on her face, and he tried to fight the darkness threatening to overwhelm him.

The sound of the gunshot had brought people out of the bar, and three people already had their phones to their ears and were calling for an ambulance.

Amelia saw Sam's face pale, and she felt another surge of panic. She put her fingers to his neck and felt the rapid thrum of his pulse as his heart fought to pump the blood he was quickly losing.

"Hold on a little longer, Sam," she implored. "The ambulance is coming."

Sam felt disconnected from his body, even the pain was a dull burn now. He knew this wasn't a good sign, and he fought to stay conscious. If he gave into the darkness, he would slip away, he knew it.

"Where's Don?" he asked.

Amelia looked pained. "He ran off. I'm so sorry, Sam. I never thought he would do something like this."

"It's…"—Sam took a breath—"not your fault. My fault. Shouldn't have come."

In the background they could hear the ambulance sirens portending their arrival.

Amelia watched as they screeched to a halt in front of the bar. The EMTs had to fight their way through the crowd that had formed around them to get to Sam.

"Okay, we've got it," one of them said, replacing Amelia's hands with his own.

Amelia felt weak as she stepped back to let them work. She kept her eyes fixed on Sam's face, and he stared back at her. Her hands were sticky with Sam's blood, and it made bile rise in her throat. She retched, and someone put an arm around her shoulders.

"You okay, Amelia?" She recognized the voice as Rick, the bar's owner.

She shook her head shakily. She could feel the tremors building in her chest and spreading through her.

On the ground, Sam was fading. He was trying to stay conscious, but he couldn't see Amelia now, she had been lost in the crowd. With nothing to focus on, his eyes were drifting closed more frequently.

The EMTs were asking him questions and telling him that he was going to be okay, but he couldn't focus on them. He wished more than anything that Dean was there. He had a very real fear that if he closed his eyes, they would not open again, and if that happened, he wanted to see Dean first.

"He's going down," one of the EMTs said.

Amelia saw Sam's eyes slide closed, and this time, they didn't open again. She felt a surge of panic, and she pushed off the arms supporting and restraining her and rushed to his side.

"Sam! Open your eyes!" she said desperately.

Sam was unable to comply. He had lost himself to the darkness.

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**I know this chapter was a little Amelia heavy, but Dean will be back in the next chapter, so hang tight. **

**CoM x **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

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**Chapter Two**

Dean thrummed his hands on the steering wheel as he drove through Dallas. He was driving to Kermit to track down Sam. He wasn't looking forward to their reunion. When they had spoken on the phone—before he'd had hung up on him—Sam had sounded pissed. Dean didn't blame him exactly—if Sam had done pulled a stunt like that on him, he would have slugged him—but he didn't regret it either. It had been necessary to call Sam off the hunt for Benny.

Dean wondered where Sam was now. He had heard the background sounds of a bar when they were on the phone. He checked the time and saw it was past three-am. Surely Sam had found a motel to bunker down for the night by now. Dean was going to have a hell of a time tracking him down when he arrived. There had to be a bunch of motels in the city, and he doubted Sam had gone for the first one in the phone book as was their custom when separated. He wouldn't want Dean to be able to find him.

Dean picked up him phone from the seat beside him and dialed Sam's number, thinking he couldn't get anymore pissed at him even if he woke him.

The phone rang and rang and then went to voicemail without being answered. Asleep or too pissed to talk, Dean didn't know, but whichever it was, it had made tracking Sam down a little more complicated.

Dean shrugged. He had done more with less before. At least this time he had a city to work with.

As he got out of the city, he pressed down on the accelerator a little harder. He was in a hurry to get to Sam to get the confrontation over and done with. Sam would be pissed, sure, but he wouldn't stay mad forever.

Comforting himself with the thought of getting this over and things back to normal, Dean leaned back in his seat and enjoyed the rumble of the engine as the car ate up the miles.

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Amelia sat with her head in her hands in the surgical waiting room. Tears had dried on her face, leaving her skin stiff. She knew she must look terrible, and she should go wash her face, but she couldn't make herself move. She was frozen in shock by all she had witnessed and done that night.

The waiting room was quiet as it was so late. The only cases being seen were emergencies, and that was what had happened to Sam, an emergency. He had been gunned down because of her. The thought hurt her. It was her fault Sam was beyond those doors fighting for his life. She should have left him alone when she saw him out of her window. She should never have followed him to the bar. But her curiosity had been too great, and the longing. She hadn't been able to stay home knowing he was so close. So, she had lied to Don, told him she was going to the store, and she had gone to the one place she was sure Sam would be, Rick's Place.

In the days before Don's return, they had spent many happy evening there together, talking and people watching. They had created stories for the few strangers, imagining them to lead fantastical lives. Sam had been especially good at creating the stories. She wished Sam was here with her now, he would be calm, and he would support her through this nightmare. But he couldn't be, as this time the nightmare was of her own making, and Sam was paying the price.

Tears began to fall again and she bowed her head. All this mess because of her. She was overcome with guilt and fear. Her life was in ruins and she didn't know what she was going to do next. Don was gone, he'd run away, and she knew him well enough that she didn't expect to see him again for a long time. Perhaps now she and Sam could be together. She clung to the hope, imagining that future in which Sam was whole and healed and with her again, as he should be.

A door opened at the end of the hall and a nurse padded along the hall dressed in clean blue scrubs.

"Are you here with Sam Winchester?" she asked.

Amelia jumped to her feet. "Is there news?"

The nurse looked apologetic. "I'm afraid I don't have an update. I came up from the ER. Sam's belongings are there, and his phone keeps ringing. I thought perhaps you would be able to speak to whoever is calling."

"Oh." Amelia felt disappointed that this was the reason for the nurse's arrival. She desperately wanted an update on Sam.

"So, can you talk to them?" the nurse prompted.

"What? Oh, sure I can." Amelia held out a hand for the phone and the nurse handed it over.

The nurse looked at Amelia like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she patted her on the arm and then turned and disappeared back through the door at the end of the hall.

Amelia turned the phone over in her hand. She knew so little about Sam and his life before and after her. He had kept it all so secret. The only time he let down the walls was when he was talking about his brother. In her hand was a key to his life. Names and numbers of people he knew. The only friends of Sam's that she knew were Rick and Everett. She could search though this phone and maybe discover some of his secrets.

Rationality finally catching up with her, she cursed herself. What was she doing thinking about rooting through Sam's phone when the man in question was currently critically ill and unable to defend himself. When had she become this person? She was disgusted with herself.

The phone rang, pulling her from her selfish thoughts. She fumbled the phone and almost dropped it. She had said she would talk to whoever was calling, but she had no idea what to say. How could she explain what had happened to Sam?

She turned the phone in her hand and checked the caller ID. It just said 'D'. She didn't know anyone with a name beginning with D other than Sam's brother, Dean, and he was dead.

Before she could gather herself to answer the phone, the ringing stopped again.

Before a moment had passed it beeped with an incoming voicemail. She decided that listening to a voicemail was no more than she was capable of, so she pressed the button and held the phone to her ear as she was connected to the voicemail service. There was an automated message and then an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Look, I get that you're pissed, but I'm on my way to Kermit, and I need to know where you are. I don't fancy playing hunt the Sammy through every motel, so call me back and let me know where you are, 'kay. Good."

Amelia listened to the message once more before hanging up. Someone was coming for Sam, that much was obvious, but who it was, she had no idea. Whoever they were, they weren't going to find him in any motel. She knew she should call this D back and tell him what had happened, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was being a coward, she knew, but to share the news of Sam's attack would be to make it real, and she couldn't bear that.

The phone began to ring again in her hand, and she braced herself before answering. Before she could even say hello the voice from the voicemail spoke.

"Finally. I was starting to think you were going to make me search every motel in town."

There was a pause as Amelia tried to think what to say.

"Sam?"

"He's been hurt," she said softly.

"Who the hell is this, and what do you mean he's been hurt. Where's Sam?"

"He's…"Amelia's voice broke and she started to cry again. "There was an accident."

The voice became businesslike. "Where is he?"

"Winkler County Memorial Hospital." She stifled a sob. "Please come quickly."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," the voice said, and then the call went dead.

Amelia looked at the blank screen and wondered who was coming and what they would say when they got there.

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**Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the first chapter. I couldn't believe how many of you said you liked it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much.**

**CoM x **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

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**Chapter Three**

Dean's hands fisted on the steering wheel.

Sam had been hurt. Sam was in hospital. The words didn't make sense to him. Sam was supposed to be in Kermit, chasing after his woman. What could have happened to land him in a hospital? Whatever it was, Dean was going to find out.

He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, and the engine rumbled. He was pushing the car to its limits, but he didn't care. His affection for the car was forgotten in that moment; it was merely a means to an end. It would get him to Sam and that was all that mattered.

When he passed through the city limits of Kermit, he pulled over at the side of the road to check the GPS on his phone. Signposts had got him that far, but he had no idea where in town the hospital was located. Typing in the address he needed, a map appeared on the screen and a blinking arrow. He checked the map once and then pulled back onto the road.

The ride to the hospital was a short one, and soon he was parking the car outside the ER. He was sure that was where Sam would be found. His mind presented him with ideas of how Sam could have been hurt, but he pushed the thoughts away. He didn't want to imagine his brother being mown down by a car or set upon by thugs.

He jogged into the almost empty ER and made his way straight to the reception desk. "I'm looking for my brother, Sam Winchester." He hoped Sam had given his real name when he was admitted; otherwise, he was going to have some explaining to do.

The receptionist was young, and she popped gum as she tapped a few keys on her computer. "I'll find someone to talk to you," she said.

"Why can't I just go to him?" Dean asked, fear creeping into his stomach, twisting his guts.

"He's not in the ER anymore," the girl said.

She stood and disappeared through a door at the back of the reception area. Dean gripped the counter and tried to calm himself. Just because Sam wasn't in the ER anymore, it didn't mean it was bad news. He could have been released already. Or—he didn't want to think it—he could have been admitted. Being admitted meant it was worse than he was imagining.

Or, a voice whispered to him, he could already be dead.

Dean pushed that thought away, making a door in his mind and slamming the voice behind it. Sam was not dead. He would know if he was. He would feel it. He knew that gut wrenching pain, as he had felt it before, in Cold Oak. An image of Sam lying supine on that dirty mattress flashed through his mind, and he slammed another mental door. He couldn't think of those things right now. He had to hold onto the present and deal with what was happening.

The receptionist came through the door followed by a young woman dressed in scrubs. The receptionist pointed at Dean and the woman in scrubs came over to him.

"I'm Doctor Benton. I worked on your brother's case."

"How is he?" Dean asked immediately.

"He's in surgery," she said.

Surgery was bad. Surgery meant Sam was bad. Dean paled and his legs wavered. Bracing himself against the counter he forced himself to calm down.

"What happened to him?" he asked. The question felt important. As if by knowing what had happened to Sam he could help him better. When in truth,. tThere was nothing he could do.

"He was involved in a shooting."

"He was shot! Someone shot my brother!"

The doctor nodded somberly. "I'm afraid so."

Dean's hands fisted on the counter. Someone had shot Sam. Someone had dared to hurt him. Dean was going to track them down and kill them.

"I can take you to the surgical waiting room," the doctor offered.

Dean nodded and allowed himself to be led through the door. They traipsed through long halls and travelled up to the second floor in an elevator. The further they travelled, the greater Dean's trepidation was. He was scared of what was going to happen when they got to their destination, what news would greet him there.

They finally came to a stop outside a plain brown door with a sign saying 'Family Room'. Dean pushed open the door and stepped inside. There was a woman already in there. She was sitting on one of the plush chairs with her arms wrapped around her stomach, and her head bowed. She looked up as Dean came into the room, and he saw her face was streaked with tears.

He nodded to her, forgetting for the moment the voice that had answered Sam's phone, and sat down opposite.

"Are you D?" she asked.

Dean frowned. "Huh?"

"Are you D, the one that called Sam's phone?"

Dean nodded slowly, the memory catching up with him. With the memory, came realization. "Are you Amelia?" he asked.

The woman nodded and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. "Who…" she cleared her throat. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dean. Sam's my brother."

The woman paled and looked a little angry. "Sam's brother is dead. Try again. Are you a reporter or a cop?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "My name is Dean, and Sam _is_ my brother. There was a misunderstanding, he thought I was dead, but I wasn't."

The woman looked stunned. "You too… Of all the… I can't believe it."

"Believe it or not, here I am," Dean said. "Now are you going to tell me what happened to my brother?"

The woman looked like she would rather do anything than answer Dean's question. She had guts though, Dean had to give her that, as she wiped at her tear streaked face and rested her palms on her knees.

"How much did they tell you?"

"Just that he was shot."

She nodded. "We were at a bar. I left first and… someone attacked me. When Sam came out, he tried to protect me. That's when the man pulled the gun. Sam was trying to save me when the gun went off. It was an accident."

Sam was trying to protect his woman. The news didn't surprise Dean. Sam was a hunter, protecting people was part of the gig, and he would want to protect his woman above any other.

"Did you see who it was?" Dean asked. "Did you recognize who did it?"

Amelia looked at a point above Dean's head. "No. I'd never seen him before."

She was lying. Dean's every sense told him that she knew exactly who had shot Sam, but she wasn't going to tell him.

"Try again," he said, echoing her words. "Who shot my brother?"

She visibly crumpled. Her hands came up to cover her face and her shoulders shook with sobs. "I don't know. I didn't see."

"Bullshit. You saw him and you know him. Tell me who it was!" he demanded.

"I don't know!" she said again.

"Fine," Dean snapped. "Sam will tell me, and then whoever you're protecting will get theirs."

Amelia nodded soberly and cast her eyes back to the floor. Dean sank back down onto the couch, and rested his hands on his knees.

Time passed in silence, neither of them aware of the hour, only knowing that there was still no news.

Then the door opened and a man came in dressed in dark blue scrubs.

"The family of Sam Winchester?" he asked.

Both Dean and Amelia got to their feet and spoke at the same time. "Yes."

Dean scowled at her. She wasn't Sam's family. He was. She was just some woman he had hooked up with. She didn't care for Sam really. If she did, she would have told Dean the name of Sam's attacker.

"How is he?" Amelia asked.

The doctor gestured for them to take a seat again, and sat down opposite them.

"Sam is in a very grave condition. We had to halt the surgery for the time being, as we were unable to maintain his vitals."

Amelia paled. She apparently understood more than Dean had. All he'd heard was that they stopped the surgery.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means we are waiting for your brother to stabilize before we can go back in and finish the repairs."

"Where is the damage?" Amelia asked.

"The majority of the damage is limited to the small intestine, but the gravest injury is to the aorta. The bullet nicked the aorta as it passed. We have repaired the damage there, but Sam went into hypovolemic shock. We have blood running into him now, and once he has stabilized, we will finish repairing the damage."

"Isn't he at high risk of infection from the intestinal injury?" Amelia asked.

"He is," the doctor said soberly. "But he was just too unstable to continue."

Dean frowned. "But if he gets an infection, what then?"

"In the condition your brother is in at the moment, he will not be able to fight it off. But if we continue the surgery now, he _will _die."

Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. His breath rushed out of him in a whoosh. He flopped back against the couch back, and brought shaking hands to his face.

"My brother's dying. Is that what you're saying?"

"You brother is in critical condition," the doctor said evasively. "But I hope that, when we have completed the surgery, he will be able to recover."

Dean was a practiced liar—his vocation made it a necessity—and he could tell when he was being lied to. This doctor was lying to him. He had no faith in Sam making a recovery, and from the devastated look on Amelia's face, she wasn't buying it either.

Sam wasn't going to recover. He was dying, and there was nothing the doctor could do about it.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. I think I replied to you all individually, but if I missed you, I apologize. I love reading your thoughts, and it makes all the hard work worthwhile to know you are enjoying the story. **

**In other news, Snarkymuch2 has a new story, and I have jumped on the band wagon and will be writing it with her. It's a Sam/Lucifer pairing — unusual I know — but I think if you gacve it a try you would enjoy it. The story can be found under her profile, a link to which is under my favorite authors. Please give it a look and let us know what you think. The first chapter is all her own work, so all credit goes to her, but the second has my input and we're curious to see if our two writing styles mesh.**

**CoM x **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

* * *

** Chapter Four**

"Can I see him?" Dean asked.

"Of course," the doctor said. "He is in the ICU. I will take you up there."

Amelia stood to follow, and then she paused, looking at Dean. "Do you mind?"

Dean didn't want her anywhere near Sam, she didn't deserve to see him as she was still hiding the identity of Sam's attacker, but he tried to think what Sam would want. Sam had loved this woman, Dean thought he still did, and he would want to see her. Pushing aside his own wants, he nodded. "You can come."

She smiled gratefully, and they followed the doctor out of the room and into the hall. They were lead through a maze of halls and onto a quiet wing of the hospital.

Amelia shuddered as they crossed the threshold. Dean felt he should say or do something to comfort her, Sam would want him to, but he didn't know what. Instead, he clenched his jaw and carried on down the hall toward his brother.

The doctor paused outside a room and looked at Dean and Amelia. He was talking, but Dean didn't hear a word of it. His focus was on the closed door. Sam was behind there, waiting for him.

The doctor finished his speech, and he seemed to be waiting for some response from Dean, so Dean nodded at him.

"Very well," the doctor said and pushed open the door.

Dean stepped over the threshold and his heart sank as he caught sight of his brother. Sam looked terrible. A sheet covered him to the waist, and his abdomen and most of his chest was covered in yellow tinged plastic; it looked like Saran Wrap. There was an IV in the back of each hand. One led to a bag of clear fluid and the other led to a bag of blood. A tube protruded from Sam's mouth and connected to a flexible hose.

Dean wavered on his feet, and he gripped the end of the bed for support. Amelia reached out, as if she was going to place a hand on his arm, and then her hand fell limply to her side again. Dean was glad of it. He couldn't bear to be touched in that moment.

Amelia stepped closer to the bed, and she traced a finger up Sam's arm. Dean wanted to shout at her, to tell her to get away from Sam, but he was frozen in place by the sight before him. His brother was trapped in a hospital bed, looking like he was barely clinging to life because of this woman. If Sam hadn't tried to protect her, he wouldn't have been hurt.

But no, that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't heap all the blame on Amelia, as much as he wanted to. He had to take a portion for himself. He had been the one to send Sam to Kermit again. He had sent that text message. He could never have envisaged what would happen when he'd sent the message. He had been focused on keeping Benny safe, and he had kept him safe, but it had some at a terrible price, and Sam was the one that had paid it.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Amelia asked. His tormented thoughts had apparently shown on his face.

Dean shook his head, and she nodded understandingly. She pulled a chair up beside Sam's bed and gestured for him to sit. Dean sank down onto the hard plastic chair and looked at his brother.

Amelia pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed and sat down. Her eyes stayed fixed on Dean.

"Something you want?" Dean asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Why did Sam think you were dead?"

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "That's what you want to talk about, really?"

She shrugged. "I figure it's better than talking about the elephant in the room."

The elephant they were both ignoring stubbornly. Her because she didn't know better, and Dean because he was formulating a plan.

"We got separated," Dean said. "And to anyone else it would have looked like I was dead. Sam wasn't lying to you; he really believed I was gone."

She nodded. "He used to talk about you sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Dean was a little hurt that Sam hadn't spoken about him more. Did that mean that he wasn't as important to his brother as Sam was to him?

"It was painful for him to talk about you," she said. "He was… broken when I met him. Losing you broke him."

Dean immediately felt guilty for his less than understanding thoughts. He had believed Sam had walked away without a second look when he had gone to Purgatory, happy to be able to live a free life again. It seemed he was wrong.

"He got better eventually." It seemed that she was talking to herself more than Dean, and he was content to listen. It gave him a glimpse into Sam's life without him. "But it would still catch him off guard sometimes. Something would happen, and he would turn to someone who wasn't there as if to share the moment. I think he was looking for you."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. He had never imagined his brother would have been like this. All his bitterness toward Sam for not looking for him dissipated and was replaced with longing. He wanted his brother awake so he could tell him how sorry he was for being a jerk.

"You must have been good for him," Dean said, feeling grudging gratitude towards the woman. "You fixed him."

She huffed a laugh and reached over the cot sides to hold Sam's hand in her own. "I did my best, but then I broke him again."

Dean raised his head. He didn't know the history of Sam and Amelia. When he had first seen Sam again after he'd returned from Purgatory, Sam had said there was a woman, but there wasn't anymore. What had Amelia done to him?

Seeing his confusion, Amelia spoke on. "I'm married."

Dean gaped at her. Sam had shacked up with a married woman!

"He didn't know," she said, running a finger over the back of Sam's hand, mindful of his IV. "He thought, well, _I_ thought I was a widow. My husband was in the army, and he was reported dead."

"But he's not?"

She shook her head. "No, he was taken prisoner. They found him and freed him about six months ago."

"So, what happened then?" Dean asked. "How did Sam take the news that he was surplus to requirements?"

"He wasn't," Amelia said angrily. "I loved your brother; I still love him now. If he gave me the word, I would leave my life with Don behind and stay with him. I would have stayed with him then, I just said I needed some time, but Sam left me. He made the choice to go. "

Of course he had, Dean thought. Sam wouldn't have wanted to stay between Amelia and her husband. So Amelia had stayed with her husband, which made Sam's little trip to Kermit a lot more complicated. Where was her husband now?

Then he understood, and anger flared inside of him once more. "He was the one that did this to Sam, wasn't he? Your husband. What happened? Did he catch you and Sam together?"

"It wasn't like that!" Amelia said in a strident tone. "We were just talking, Don misunderstood."

Dean waved away her excuses, seizing only on her admission. "Where is he now?" he asked.

"I don't know," Amelia said, and Dean knew she was telling the truth. She didn't know where her husband was. She was no use to him now.

Dean got to his feet and advanced on her. "You can go now."

"What?"

"You can leave. You can let go of my brother and leave us both alone. I don't want you near him."

Tears sprang to Amelia's eyes, and she clung to Sam's hand a little tighter.

"I said leave!" Dean said in a low, dangerous tone.

She squeezed Sam's hand, and then she got to her feet. She was trembling slightly, but the show of weakness did not sate Dean, it made him more angry. She had no right to show weakness, not when this was all her fault.

She looked longingly at Sam and then turned and left the room. Dean watched her go, relaxing somewhat as the distance between him and her grew. As the door clicked closed behind her, Dean let out a slow breath and looked across the room at his brother.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's just you and me now."

Part of his mind wondered how Sam would feel if he'd witnessed the way Dean had spoken to the woman he loved. Would he be pissed at Dean? It didn't matter. He wasn't there to see, not really. He was stuck someplace between living and dying, and all that was happening around him was null and void. Not for long though. Dean was going to get him out of this mess.

Dean walked over to the window and looked out into the parking lot. The sun was up now, and the parking lot was cast into bright light. Sam's room overlooked the hospital main entrance, and Dean watched as Amelia stepped out of the main doors and came to a stop at the taxi rank.

An idea occurred to him, and he faltered, torn between the need to be with his brother and the need to avenge. The need to avenge his brother won out, and he patted Sam's arm once.

"I'll be right back, Sammy. You hang tight a little longer. I'm getting help."

That said, he raced out of the room and jogged down the hall to the elevator. Every second that passed as he waited for the car to arrive seemed to take a lifetime. He was worried that Amelia's cab would arrive and she would be gone before he had a chance to catch up to her.

Luck was on his side for a change. When he got to the main exit, he could see Amelia standing at the rank. He slipped out of the door and made his way to the Impala. Climbing in, he watched as a cab pulled up in front of Amelia and she climbed in. She would lead Dean to where he needed to be next, he was sure of it.

* * *

**Thanks as always to everyone that is reading and special thanks to those of you that review. I love hearing from you all. **

**Other news: The third and fourth chapters of Stairway To Heaven have been posted. Chapter Three is Dean's POV, and Snarks and I had a good time working out what he would be doing while Sam was being held hostage by Lucifer. If you haven't already, please give it a look. The link to Snarkymuch2's page can be found under my favorite authors. **

**CoM x **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

**I am SO sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out to you. Snarks and I have been crazy busy writing our Sam/Lucifer story, and we didn't have time to edit this. The story is done now, so I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the sixth and final chapter. **

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**Chapter Five**

Dean followed Amelia at a distance through the streets of Kermit until her cab pulled into a cul-de-sac of houses. He parked the Impala at the side of the road and climbed out. Stroking the hood as he passed, he watched as she climbed out of her cab and made her way up the steps to a nice looking, two-story house.

She let herself in with a key and closed the door behind her. When she was out of sight, Dean jogged down the street and unlatched the back gate, letting himself into the yard. There was dog dozing in a patch of sunlight. It stirred as Dean passed and then fell back to sleep. Pleased that there dog wasn't going to be a problem, he climbed the few steps onto the back porch and pulled his lock pick out of his back pocket. The lock was simple, and he had it open in a few clicks. As he opened the door, voices reached him.

"You nearly killed him, Don! What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry," a mournful male voice replied. "I couldn't bear the thought of it. You and him together. We had something Amelia. Why did you have to go back to him?"

"I didn't go back. I told you. I saw him and had to make sure it was him. That's all. I barely said two words to him."

"I believe you," the man said. "And I'm sorry for what I did. I never meant to scare you."

"Scare me! What about Sam? You could have killed him, Don!"

"I'm so sorry." It sounded like the man was crying. It was that sound that spurred Dean into action. Anger filled him. That was the man that had shot Sam. He could have killed him. He had no right to cry over his own troubles after what he did to Sam.

He pulled the gun from the back of his pants and around the arch separating him from Amelia and Don.

"You're not sorry, yet," he said through gritted teeth. "But you will be."

He raised his gun, and Amelia screamed. Dean guessed seeing a gun pulled twice in one evening had to be a shock for anyone. He had no sympathy for her, though. She was beyond his concern.

Don got to his feet and raised his hands in front of him in a placatory way. Dean had a horrible mental image of Sam doing the same, and he cringed inwardly.

"Dean, please don't do this!" Amelia pleaded.

"Is that what my brother said?" he asked. "When this dickwad pulled the gun on him. Did he beg and plead, too?"

"Who's this?" Don asked.

"My name is Dean, and I am the brother of the man you shot last night. I'm here for a little old fashioned revenge."

The man gulped. "It was an accident. I never meant to hurt anyone."

Dean laughed wryly. "Then you shouldn't have pulled the trigger. That's a foolproof way not to hurt someone."

"He tackled me. The gun went off. It was an accident." He was babbling now. It pleased Dean. He could see the film of sweat on Don's brow; he was scared. That pleased Dean, too. He wanted him to feel the same fear Sam must have felt as he bled out.

"You're not so brave without your gun, are you?" Dean said. "Where is it now?" He needed to know that man was unarmed. He couldn't have Amelia getting hurt in the crossfire. Sam would never forgive him.

"I dumped it," the man said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Very smart. Now you've got nothing to defend yourself with. Just like my brother had nothing."

"Dean, please," Amelia said. "Don't shoot him!"

Dean smiled grimly. "I'm not going to shoot him." He pulled the clip from his gun, stuffed it in his pocket, and then shoved the gun down the back of his pants again. "I'm not a coward like him. I fight my battles with my fists."

The little composure Don had gained when Dean pulled the clip from the gun disappeared as Dean looked him in the eye.

"I'm not going to fight you," Don said in an attempt at saving face.

"That's too bad," Dean said with a grim smile. "'Cause I'm gonna fight you."

The man looked away from Dean and opened his mouth to address Amelia. That was his mistake. As soon as he turned, Dean sprung into action. He ran forward and swung back his fist. He landed a punch to Don's jaw, and the man cried out in pain. Using Don's capitulation to his advantage, Dean punched him on the nose. Blood streamed from his nose and spattered onto his shirt. Dean relished in the sight of the blood. He gripped the collar of Don's shirt and shoved him against the wall.

"Fight me!" he snarled. "You were a big man with a gun. Prove to your woman that you're a man now." He wanted the fight. He wanted this man to fight back. In his heart of hearts, he wanted Don to beat him, too, to punish him for his part in this nightmare. He hadn't known what would happen when he sent that text, he hadn't even known Amelia had someone else, but it was a low trick nonetheless.

He released Don and stepped back, holding his hands out at his sides. "Come on. I'm an easy target. Take a swing."

Don pushed away from the wall and pulled back a fist. His blow landed on Dean's jaw, and pain rocked through him. He absorbed it in silence, not giving Don the satisfaction of knowing he had been hurt.

Don aimed another blow at him, and Dean caught his wrist. Twisting it behind his back, he pushed Don forward. He fell and landed hard of a wooden coffee table which splintered apart at the impact. A leg broke off, and Don reached for it.

"Coward!" Dean snapped, kicking the wood away. "Use your fists."

Don was on all fours on the floor, and Dean aimed a kick at his ribs. He felt something give beneath his boot, and Don groaned. Don pushed himself painfully to his feet and raised his hands in front of him.

"I don't want to fight you"—he snapped out a fist and caught Dean's cheek—"but I will."

The blow scraped Dean's inside cheek across his teeth, drawing blood. He spat blood on the floor and gritted his bloodstained teeth. He punched Don across the cheek, and as Don buckled, he grabbed the back of his neck and forced his head down. With his free arm, he swung a fist into Don's gut. Over and over again, he slammed his fist into Don, grunting with satisfaction as he made contact. Finally, he brought his knee up and rammed it into Don's injured ribs. The man cried out, and Dean shoved him away. Don sprawled onto the floor, his face dripping blood and his hand nursing his ribs.

"What are you waiting for?" Don asked. "You've beaten me, now get your gun and finish the job."

"I've already told you, I'm not a coward," Dean spat. "I will make you a promise. If you ever come near my brother or me again, I will kill you. Even think about calling the police, and I will tell them exactly what you did to my brother."

"You…" Amelia cleared her throat. "You aren't going to the police?"

Dean shook his head. "Me and my brother, we live below the radar. We deal with our problems the old-fashioned way. Your husband has been dealt with, but if he comes for us again, he will pay the price. You know Sam has another life, right? You've sensed it."

Amelia nodded.

"That life is dangerous. _We _are dangerous."

"Are you warning me off?" Amelia asked. She had been silent through Don and Dean's fight, cowering in a corner. Now she was regaining some of her backbone.

"Let's just call it is a bit of friendly advice," Dean said. "And while I'm feeling charitable, I'll give you a bit more." He looked down at Don still sprawled on the floor. "Get rid of him."

Amelia looked sad, and Dean felt a pang of guilt for what he was doing to her. She had seen her boyfriend shot, had seen her husband beaten senseless and was now being warned away. He pushed away the guilt and concentrated on the bigger picture. This woman was no good for Sam, and as the older brother, it was Dean's job to look out for him. He was doing Sam a favor.

He turned away from Amelia and examined his reflection in the mirror. His lip was busted and there was a redness on his jaw that would bruise soon, but he was definitely better off than Don, and that was all that mattered.

Amelia had knelt beside Don on the floor, and she was wiping at his bloody nose with a tissue. Dean cast her a scathing look. After all Don had done, she was going to stay with him; it was obvious.

Turning away from the nauseating image, he let himself out of the front door and walked back to the Impala.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness. **

* * *

**Chapter Six**

When Dean got back to the hospital, he parked the car in the parking lot and made his way into the main entrance. Now the adrenaline had left him, he was tired after a night's driving and sore from the fight. Those concerns were less pressing than the fact he had essentially abandoned his brother for the last hour.

He made his way back up in the elevator and stepped out onto the ICU. His footfalls sounded loud in the muted hall. When he came to Sam's room, he paused for a moment outside the door before stepping inside. Nothing had changed in the room since he had left it, other than a nurse standing at Sam's bedside, recording something on a clipboard. She turned at his approach, and she smiled.

"How is he?" Dean asked.

The nurse smiled. "He's doing a little better. If his vitals remain steady for the next few hours, they will take him back into surgery."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. There would be no need for more surgery, he had a plan, but it was good to know Sam was doing better.

The nurse fiddled with the bag of blood beside Sam's bed, and then turned to Dean. "If you need anything, just press the call button."

Dean smiled and thanked her, and then he watched as she left the room.

"Just you and me again, Sammy," he said. "For now." He patted Sam's arm, and then raised his eyes heavenward. "Cas, I need you, and I mean I _really_ need you. I'm in room three-forty-five of Winkler County Memorial Hospital. Please come quickly."

His task done, he pulled up a chair beside Sam's bed and waited for the angel's arrival.

He didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later, there was the sound of rustling wings, and Dean sensed another's presence in the room.

Dean turned to Castiel, and he saw shock transform the angel's features. "What has happened?" he asked.

"Someone shot him," Dean said in a fierce voice. "Damn near killed him."

Castiel ran a finger over the plastic covering Sam's chest and abdomen. "There is great damage here."

"Yeah, I figured. They couldn't finish the surgery as he was circling the drain." Dean swallowed. "You can fix him, right?"

Castiel surveyed Sam in silence for a moment, long enough for Dean to grow worried.

"You can fix him, can't you?" Fear gripped him. The reality of Sam's dire condition hadn't really sunk in as he'd had this plan all along. If Castiel couldn't help him… Dean didn't want to even think of the possibility.

Castiel nodded. "I can, but I foresee a problem."

"What problem?"

"I do not see how we are to do it without arousing suspicion."

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Sammy won't want to be their miracle recovery boy, and we could do without the exposure. I figure we've got no choice, though. Sam's in a bad way, and they aren't overly optimistic about his chances. I can't risk them going into surgery again just to lose him on the table."

Castiel frowned. "I could revive him again."

"Yeah, but there are those minutes, or hours depending on how long it takes, between him going and you bringing him back. I don't want Sammy to go through that again. God knows he has died and been resurrected more than enough already. If he gets a glimpse at heaven again…"

"You are worried he would not want to return." It wasn't a question. Castiel was stating a fact.

Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. "Let's just say I want to make this as easy on him as I can."

Dean didn't want Sam to suffer more than he had to, and to be given another glimpse of heaven only to lose it again would hurt him too much. Coupled with the loss of Amelia, it would be too much for his brother to take. That separation from Amelia was Dean's doing, but it was for the best. She was no good for him.

Dean stepped closer to Sam's bedside and ran a finger along his brother's arm, saying a silent apology for what was about to happen to him. It was going to be unpleasant.

"I'll bar the door," he said. "You do what you need to do, and be prepared to spring us out of here. Take us to Rufus' place in Montana."

Castiel nodded and watched Dean as he went to the door and jammed a chair under the handle.

"Ready?" Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. "Ready." He added his own weight to the door to reinforce their protection. He knew when Castiel did what he did next, there was going to be a lot of noise and the alarms at the nurse's station were going to come running.

Castiel placed the fingertips of his right hand on Sam's temple and he closed his eyes.

Dean knew the moment it had worked, as Sam's eyes snapped open and his back arched against the bed. The machines beside the bed beeped loudly. Sam's breath came in a choking gargle as he fought against the ventilator. His right hand came up and gripped the mouthpiece of the tube down his throat. With a yank that made Dean wince, he pulled the tube from his throat.

"Now, Cas!" Dean barked, racing across the room and gripping his brother's hand.

There was a disconcerting feeling as they were moved through space in the blink of an eye, and then Dean felt his feet impact the solid wooden floor of Rufus' cabin.

Sam landed hard and fell back on the floor, his long legs sprawling. Dean squatted down beside him and laid a hand on his brother's chest. "It's okay, Sammy," he said in a soft tone, looking into Sam's wild eyes. "You're okay now."

Sam's hands went to his abdomen, and they gripped the plastic that was still wrapped across his skin.

"It's okay," Dean said. "Cas took care of you."

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice. He massaged his throat. Dean knew that yanking the tube out had to have done some damage.

"Cas," he said, "can you help with that?"

Castiel reached for Sam again, but Sam ducked away from his hand. "I'm fine, Cas," he croaked. "It's not so bad."

Dean frowned. He didn't know why his brother was refusing Castiel's help, but he figured it didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact his brother was awake and aware enough to refuse. He didn't realize how great the fear had been that he would lose him until he saw proof of his healing. His eyes stung and he stared determinedly at the ceiling for a moment. Hoping that his tear ducts wouldn't betray him.

When he was sure he wasn't going to cry like a woman, he looked back at Sam, who was peeling the plastic away from his stomach, revealing unblemished skin underneath.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sam looked up. "Yeah. I guess." He turned to Castiel. "Cas, man, I don't know what to say…"

Castiel smiled. "I am merely glad I was able to help. You were close to death when I arrived."

Sam nodded. "Well… um… thanks."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said. "Thanks. We really owe you. Again."

Sam succeeded in pulling the last of the plastic from his chest, and he moved on to the electrodes from the heart monitor. He looked a little pale and shaky, but Dean guessed that was as much from shock as anything. It had to be a hell of a thing to be suddenly jerked back to the land of the living, completely healed.

Sam looked around the cabin, frowning, and Dean had an inkling of what, or more specifically who, he was looking for.

"So… what happened?" Sam asked.

"Simple answer, you got shot," Dean said.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "How did you know?"

"I called your cell and a nurse at the hospital answered," Dean lied. "I was on my way into Kermit already, so I was with you soon enough. Catching hold of Cas took a little longer, though." He knew Sam would work out the time lapse, and he wanted to have something to explain away the missing hours that didn't involve him mentioning his meeting with Amelia or his ass kicking of Don.

Castiel frowned at the lie, but thankfully, he didn't speak up.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked. "You look like you've gone a few rounds."

Dean waved away his concerns. "Yeah, I got caught up in the Martin/Benny thing."

Sam sighed. "Oh, right." He rubbed a hand across his cheek, looking awkward. "And you didn't see anyone else at the hospital?"

Dean pretended ignorance. "You mean other than the doctors and nurses?"

Sam nodded.

"No, there was only me and Cas."

Sam's breath caught, and then a cool expression of indifference took over his features. "That's good. I was wondering if the cops would be there. They're the last thing we need to deal with." He drew a deep breath. "I'm going to go get cleaned up."

He turned and walked up the wooden steps to the second floor.

When he was out of sight, Castiel turned to Dean and asked, "Why are you lying to him?"

"Because there are some things Sammy's better off not knowing."

He knew that there would eventually come a day when Sam would find out the truth, but as long as that day was far in the future, Dean was happy. When the truth came out, Dean would explain that he was doing his job as a big brother, protecting Sam.

**_~ THE END ~_**


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